so, we often find ourselves unable, at that
particular moment, to keep our mind fixed upon the subject; it wanders
off to other things. Aversion to the matter in question is sometimes
to blame for this. In such a case we should not use force, but wait
for the proper frame of mind to come of itself. It often comes
unexpectedly and returns again and again; and the variety of temper in
which we approach it at different moments puts the matter always in a
fresh light. It is this long process which is understood by the term
_a ripe resolution._ For the work of coming to a resolution must be
distributed; and in the process much that is overlooked at one moment
occurs to us at another; and the repugnance vanishes when we find, as
we usually do, on a closer inspection, that things are not so bad as
they seemed.

This rule applies to the life of the intellect as well as to matters
of practice. A man must wait for the right moment. Not even the
greatest mind is capable of thinking for itself at all times. Hence a
great mind does well to spend its leisure in reading, which, as I have
said, is a substitute for thought; it brings stuff to the mind by
letting another person do the thinking; although that is always done
in a manner not our own. Therefore, a man should not read too much, in
order that his mind may not become accustomed to the substitute and
thereby forget the reality; that it may not form the habit of walking
in well-worn paths; nor by following an alien course of thought grow a
stranger to its own. Least of all should a man quite withdraw his gaze
from the real world for the mere sake of reading; as the impulse and
the temper which prompt to thought of one's own come far oftener from
the world of reality than from the world of books. The real life that
a man sees before him is the natural subject of thought; and in its
strength as the primary element of existence, it can more easily than
anything else rouse and influence the thinking mind.

After these considerations, it will not be matter for surprise that
a man who thinks for himself can easily be distinguished from the
book-philosopher by the very way in which he talks, by his marked
earnestness, and the originality, directness, and personal conviction
that stamp all his thoughts and expressions. The book-philosopher, on
the other hand, lets it be seen that everything he has is second-hand;
that his ideas are like the number and trash of an old furniture-shop,
c